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A sudden knock startled Giyuu from his thoughts. He had been so consumed by them, staring at his small fountain, that he never noticed his Master enter his estate. So when Urokodaki nodded lightly against the walls of the room he was in, Giyuu’s body jumped, his hand jerked to his waist, for the katana that wasn’t there. It has been almost four years, and he has yet to break that habit when startled.
“Master.” Giyuu spoke softly, once he saw that it was Urokodaki, his eyes taking in the familiar posture, the Tengu mask, the haori of clouds that sparked old memories, before shifting away uncomfortably.
“Hello, Giyuu.” Urokodaki approached, quietly and softly, as if he didn’t want to startle Giyuu again. Immediately he had noticed the darkness under Giyuu’s eyes, the look of a man who hasn’t slept in days. He stepped silently through the room until he reached Giyuu and joined him on the tatami flooring, resting his back against the wall with a huff.
“Why are you here, Master?” Giyuu had yet to look Urokodaki in the eyes, looking anywhere else in the room but his Master.
Urokodaki only chuckled, getting comfortable next to his past student. “You know why.”
Giyuu’s body began to tremble slightly. He thought he was going to be able to avoid this. Giyuu had thought ahead and began to tell everyone his birthday was in March, a month later than it actually was. He knew Tanjirou would want to be here, to keep him company on that final night. So he lied, so that everyone wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t be here when it actually happened. This was what he was hoping to avoid.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t remember when your real birthday was?” Urokodaki asked in a gentle tone.
A visible flinch rocked Giyuu’s body as his shoulders lowered in shame, but Urokodaki continued, “I may be old, but I haven’t forgotten your birthdays that I was lucky enough to celebrate with you. You may have fooled everyone else, but you can’t get anything by your old Master.'' His tone turned humorous at the end and Giyuu could practically see him arching an eyebrow as Urokodaki leaned closer to him.
Emotions continued to battle within Giyuu until all he was able to do as his eyes turned watery was whisper an “I’m sorry.” He was just so tired.
His fist clenched in his lap, as he tried to maintain his composure. However, Urokodaki was making that very difficult as he rested a comforting hand on his student’s shoulder.
“My dear boy, you have nothing to apologize for,” he said as he squeezed Giyuu’s shoulder and felt his body tremble under his hand, a steady shake.
Shuddering an exhale, Giyuu tried to speak again, before a quiet sob took its place. Urokodaki knew exactly why Giyuu did what he did. He was not one to seek comfort, nor one to show others his worries or pain. But that left him here, alone on the night before his 25th birthday. If the stories were true, then it was the birthday that all Demon Slayers who had gained their marks would never see.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Giyuu. Come here.” Urokodaki tugged at Giyuu until he relented, holding him in a tight hug as Giyuu’s single hand clutched at the back of his haori.
Giyuu clung tightly to Urokodaki as shuddering breaths turned to strong dry heaves which tore through his chest. “Master, I-” his voice trembled as he tried to speak.
“It’s okay.” Urokodaki felt like his own heart was shattering as he saw Giyuu lose his everkept composure in his arms. His student had always seemed a touch too fragile no matter how much he tried to pretend everything was alright. Giyuu never broke down in front of others, but if one looked close enough, they could see the slowly breaking pieces after every loss, after every death he has had to witness, had failed to prevent. These past four years had allowed him to heal, to glue those pieces back together again, but it was never with the intention to last very long.
Through a watery breath, Giyuu whispered into Urkodaki’s chest, “I’m scared.”
And it was as if someone drove a sword right through Urokodaki’s heart, cleaving it in two, but he steeled himself before speaking, “And that’s okay.”
“I… I don’t know what’s going to happen,” the words came out shaky, muffled by Urokodaki’s haori. Giyuu was the first of the Demon Slayers who received the mark in the final battle to reach 25. There was no recorded information on what happened. Only the stories.
“I don’t know either, but I will remain here, my dear son.”
Giyuu’s head shot up, staring at Urokodaki’s Tengu mask, a question written on his tired and tear streamed face of broken hope.
Urokodaki simply hugged him tighter, guiding his head back to his chest, as he stroked his fingers through Giyuu’s hair, “You’ve always been and will be my son.”
Giyuu’s sobs reinvigorated as he clutched tightly to his Master. No. As he clung to his father.
They remained in that position as Giyuu continued to cry, until his sobs turned into light sniffles, and his head fell into Urokodaki’s lap. Shadows grew along the floor as the sun began to set, casting the room in a soft orange glow before it turned to dusk.
Gently, Urokodaki combed his fingers through Giyuu’s messy hair. While he has kept it short in the past four years, it still managed to get tangled and knotted. His fingers wound through the black strands as Giyuu calmed down, his eyes closed as he relaxed.
“Thank you,” Giyuu whispered into the slowly growing dark. “Thank you for coming.”
“I will be here for you. Always.” Urkodaki replied, a bittersweet smile hidden by the mask.
“Why did you still come?” Under his words, Urokodaki could tell what Giyuu was really thinking, that he didn’t deserve for him to come. That he didn’t deserve comfort from the one man he spent years avoiding in shame.
“How could I not? Giyuu, I always wondered why you never visited after the Final Selection but I never held it against you. You have been so dear to me. If I can provide an ounce of comfort to you with my presence, I will consider it worthwhile.”
There were so many things that he wanted to say, had to tell Urokodaki, yet his eyelids were growing so much heavier. He tried to open his mouth to respond but closed it helplessly. It was all so overwhelming and he didn’t know what to do.
“It’s okay, I know.” Urokodaki simply kept brushing the dark mess of hair, “I am so proud of you, my son. I love you and I will remain here with you.”
Sleep began clawing at Giyuu’s consciousness. He wanted to get scared, thinking that this would be it, he wouldn't wake up again, and return to the vicious cycle he has been in the past few days, which caused him to remain sleepless. However, Urokodaki’s soft words echoed around his head, softening his fear.
Before he could fully fall asleep, surrounded by a warmth he hasn’t been able to feel in years, he managed to whisper, “I love you father.”
***
The first thing Giyuu is aware of was the sounds of morning. The songs of birds and the drizzle of water echoed muffled in his ears, and he felt the soft prickles of warmth across his skin from the rising sun. Lazily, his eyes opened, vision blurred from his sleepy eyes. They adjusted slowly, the world coming into focus as he saw the fountain of his room trickling gently.
Then a hand brushed his hair, a familiar touch. He jolted forward, his hand propping him in an upwards position.
Turning, he saw Urokodaki in the same position as the prior night, leaning against the wall, with the soft glow of morning lighting his face. He hadn’t moved. Didn’t leave him like he promised. Without the Tengu mask, Giyuu saw the tears falling swiftly down Urokodaki’s soft face graced by age, as he stared at Giyuu.
“I’m still here?” Giyuu asked tentatively, staring back.
Urokodaki nodded quickly, a large smile growing, making his eyes crinkle in delight full of tears of pure joy.
“I’m alive.” He stated tentatively. As if he couldn’t even believe it himself. “I don’t understand.”
Urokodaki didn’t quite believe it either. His student was still alive. He had laid here the whole night, softly and repeatedly brushing Giyuu’s hair while straining his ears to listen to Giyuu’s breath. Giyuu’s heartbeat. And neither stopped the whole night. When the skies had begun to lighten early in the morning, and Giyuu was still sleeping peacefully in his lap, heartbeat and breath strong, Urokodaki dared to hope.
Urokodaki replied joyfully, “I don’t understand either. The marks have a very strange and unclear history. Maybe the stories only happened because the Marked Ones always died in battle before 25. The mark itself didn’t kill them, but the demons they were constantly fighting as a Marked One would.”
Giyuu hummed, nodding weakly and still in shock. He had tried for so long to make peace with his death, ever since Kocho had said that it decreased the Slayers’ lifespans and he got his mark in the final battle.
But he woke up. He was alive.